A Very Sirius Letter
by of-convoluted-disillusion
Summary: In which Sirius did not lock his best friend in the cupboard, Peter resents the comment about being neutered, James has a leech on his knee and Remus is possibly going to commit to a fifty year long vow of silence. And all of it stems from one letter, where one harmless little 'sorry I forgot your birthday four months ago' would most definitely have sufficed. Please R & R!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everybody! Sorry it's been so long since I wrote anything! I've been really busy with moving and stupid assignments for a class I'm not even taking next year, so yeah :(**

**But anyway, I'm here now, and this is just a quick letter I wrote from Sirius to Remus regarding a *late* not *forgotten* birthday.**

**This was actually written as part of a present to my best friend, whose birthday I actually didn't forget, since it's the day after mine, but we were both very late with presents and didn't end up giving them until July though our birthdays are in April :) But hopefully there won't be any inside jokes or anything like that, and I tried to make it as canonical as possible.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned the rights to Harry Potter, I would not be trapped in my room pretending to work my Textiles assignment (just kidding, I finished it hours ago and am pretending I'm still working on it so I don't have to socialise. Oh, me and my depressing distaste for all things non computed). So yeah, I don't own HP, it's all the property of my hero, our queen and ruler JK :D**

**Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed my other stories, I've been too busy to reply, but I will try in future :)**

**And one more thing. I'm thinking of writing a reply from Remus to this letter, but I'm not really sure, so please review and tell me what you think!**

Dear Moony,

You know, I don't really want to go on and on for hours about anything particularly sappy or emotional. That's for girls and Prongs. So instead, we're going to do the nostalgia tour. You can bring Wormy if you like, or preferably Evans, but at this stage Prongs is looking like a no-show (I think he's locked himself in the cupboard somehow, and before you ask, no, I wasn't involved, I _didn't _steal his wand so that he can't get out and I definitely did NOT tell him that the cupboard is due to be incinerated within a half hour time period). Although I might do something similarly cruel to WORMTAIL if he doesn't STOP reading over my SHOULDER.

That's better. Now, down to business.

When then was now. Memory lane. The nostalgia tour. Whatever you want to call it. We're going to be looking into the evolution of our friendship (don't ask me, it was Evans' idea) starting from first year and progressing onwards, with a few predictions at the end, just for shits and giggles. Let's get to it so I can escape to safety before Prongs gets himself out of the cupboard.

In first year, I was a wonderful friend and you hated me.

In second year, I was a wonderful, supportive friend and you hated me.

In third year, I was a wonderful, supportive, amazing friend and you hated me.

In fourth year, I was a spectacular, wonderful, supportive, amazing friend and you hated me.

In fifth year, I was a bit of an idiot (well actually, the world's most woefully oblivious dickhead to be honest), and sent Snape after you down the whomping willow. For the first time, you actually had a valid reason to hate me. You didn't.

In sixth year (which is now), I'm a superb, spectacular, idiotic, crazy, mad, wonderful, supportive, amazing friend and...you hate me again.

In seventh year (and this is just a guess), I will probably maybe possibly be a somewhat great, superb, spectacular, idiotic, crazy, mad, wonderful, supportive, amazing, brilliant friend, and you'll just give me the Remus look that means you think I'm a lunatic or a fool. And you'll hate me.

When Prongs and Evans get married (I can't believe I've actually started to believe there's a chance of it ever maybe possibly probably happening) I'll dance with Minerva because that's on my bucket list, and I'll give my best man speech and be spectacular, and then Prongs will cry because he's a girl, and you won't laugh at him because you'll be stringing an anvil to the roof of the venue and waiting for me to walk under it.

When Prongs and Evans have their firstborn (if this happens), I'll be waiting to steal the Prongslet as soon as they turn their backs, because Prongs is NOT to be trusted with young children. You will be waiting to stop me. Or, you'd better be, because if you don't I'll probably dump the little brat on your doorstep.

When we're all old and grey and you guys are wrinkly and all the Prongslets have sprouted offspring and the offspring have offspring and the offspring of the offspring of the Prongslets are running around causing mayhem with my amazingly attractive descendants, and you're married with cubs, grandcubs and great grandcubs, I'll turn to you and say 'hey Moony, haven't I just been the most great, superb, spectacular, idiotic, crazy, mad, wonderful, supportive, amazing, brilliant friend?'  
And you'll turn to look at me with the unfathomable eyes sunken deep into their sockets by the ages that have withered your features, and you'll blink at me slowly and give me the Remus look that means you think I'm a lunatic or a fool. And you'll open your ancient mouth, wait for it to moisten enough for you to be able to actually speak (because by this stage you will have taken up a vow of silence and not have spoken a word for fifty years because we annoy you that much) and you'll say in a hoarse, dry, cracked and somehow still extremely Moonyish voice, "Padfoot, old chum...I hate you."

Then you'll die, because you're a werewolf and that means

Then you'll die because lycanthropy shortens your

Then you'll die.

Then I'll probably die, because my parents are second cousins so my genes are all screwed around and won't last as long as they should.

Then Prongs will die because he obviously can't live without me (and rightly so, how DARE his existence continue while I'm trapped in the afterlife with you and your sarcasm?)

Then Evans will die about ten years later, because she'd get bored and want to hang out in the afterlife with us.

You may have noticed that I forgot someone. Wrong! I forgot nobody.

Then where, do I hear you asking, is Wormtail?

Well, let me tell you. I've got it all worked out. Peter, within the next few years, will graduate school with high NEWTs, singlehandedly defeat Voldemort, and become Minister for Magic, all the while secretly following the orders of myself and Prongs. He will not marry or create descendants, because he will have been neutered to make him more obedient and really, what woman would want that?

Okay, now, I think that's it.

Wormtail said to tell you that he resents the comment about being neutered, and to remind you that he alone gave you your present on time. Prongs accidentally gave you Evans' present, which he forgot to give her back in January. You did not find this amusing, as I'm sure you remember.

Prongs isn't going to make a valuable contribution to this, because while he managed to escape the cupboard (I suspect Evans was involved), he has now somehow managed to acquire a leech. This leech is on his knee, and you know how dramatic he is ("I'll never walk or play Quidditch again! my life is over!" I hear him scream somewhere in the distance)

Well, I'm going to too-la-roo (I don't even know what that means) off to dinner, so I hope you enjoyed the Nostalgia Tour and the Glimpse of the Future. See you later!

From Padfoot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thankyou to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!**

**Sorry this took so long, but I've been kinda busy with school (nah, just kidding, I've been kinda busy vidding)**

**Anyway, hope you all like this :D**

* * *

Sirius,

I honestly have no idea how you expect that to make up for forgetting my birthday, but I guess it's as close to an apology as I'll ever get from you. I do, however, believe that you have made several grievous mistakes in your so-called 'nostalgia tour', and I would like to help you correct them. You know me, I can't stand to see such a dear friend believe such falsities.(and if you didn't gather from the way I was just treating you like a real human being, that was intended as patronising and sarcastic).

In first year, you acted like a petulant child and, not wishing to stand for this, I treated you like one.

In second year, you continued to act like a petulant child and caused twice as much mayhem as the Prewitt twins did in all their years at Hogwarts. I refused to encourage you. May I also remind you that 'supportive' is not saying 'Wow, I'm sharing a dorm with a werewolf! Awesome!' _This_ is merely a symptom of brain damage.

In third year, you dropped a bit of the spoiled brat attitude and instead developed the beginnings of what I like to call 'James Potter Syndrome' (I considered calling it 'Potter and Black Syndrome', but there are already too many 'Black Family Syndromes' and what I call the 'Sirius Black Syndrome' is more directly related to the malfunctioning of the self-preservation brain cells. In other words, that means you don't understand the difference between 'dangerous', 'utterly reckless' and 'suicidal'. And quite frankly, 'James Potter Syndrome' sounds generally more awesome than 'Potter and Black Syndrome'.)

I digress. James Potter Syndrome is directly involved in the ridiculous notion that the entire world revolves around a single being- the victim of the syndrome. In this case, that would be you. And me, refusing to bow down to your wishes, treated you with careful wit that kept your ego brimming just below the explosive level.

Moving on to fourth year. Upon my return to Hogwarts I discovered that your condition had, in fact, worsened over the summer holidays- no doubt a direct result of spending a month visiting James. Once again not feeling any particular motivation to encourage the arrogance, I chose to battle it and control your ego as much as I could while wrestling with my own, rather more dangerous problem.

I refuse to even discuss fifth year. It's in the past. Forget about it, like I'm trying to, Padfoot. Really.

Since you terminated the connection to your blood family and living with James became a permanent arrangement, your sense of self-preservation has dropped at a speed almost as alarming as the one at which your ego has been expanding. If making you realise that you aren't the most important person in the world is what it takes to ensure you don't attempt to, say, _wronski feint from the top of the Astronomy Tower_ when you are most certainly _not _a professional- then so be it.

As for your future predictions, I won't say much, since divination is both weak and pathetic. I will however point out a few things:

I _already _think you're a lunatic, so that's a moot point.

_If _Lily actually marries James, I'm sure that you will not be at the centre of my thoughts, believe it or not.

Do you really think you could steal _anything _from Lily and live? Let alone a child? Have you forgotten when James took her quill in third year?

I find that comment about my early death threatening and offensive.

As for the whole 'make Pete your puppet' plan- that's fine. But I should warn you that as his close friend, if I learn that you have harmed him in any way or forced/blackmailed him into anything, I will feel personally obliged to cut out your liver with a boomerang, disassemble your skeleton by hand and feed your skin to a Hungarian Horntail. Just so you know.

Oh, and if you ask me to do your Potions essay one more time, I swear to God I will end you. I will tell James that it was you who ate the last pumpkin pasty at Peter's birthday party. I will tell Lily about all the times you've distracted her so that James could have a good, long, ogle.

I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

From Remus.


End file.
